


Stuck On a Little Hot Mess

by coricomile



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott can't breathe. His inhaler is in his jeans, tucked up under his wallet across the room. There's sweat stuck to his back, slicking up his skin like he's been running. His lungs are going to explode. His lungs are going to explode and he's going to <i>die</i>.</p><p>Pre-canon summer fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck On a Little Hot Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Why will no one see Scott and Stiles' epic sandbox love? There's no timeline mentioned here, but imagine it as the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

Scott can't breathe. His inhaler is in his jeans, tucked up under his wallet across the room. There's sweat stuck to his back, slicking up his skin like he's been running. His lungs are going to explode. His lungs are going to explode and he's going to _die_. 

"Stop pulling my hair," Stiles grumbles, wiping the back of his wrist over his lips. They're shiny and red, swollen up like someone punched him in the mouth. "It frigging hurts."

"Sorry," Scott chokes out, trying to suck in deep breaths while he can. His lungs burn like he's on fire. Holy shit, he didn't expect it to be quite like this. "Can you do it again?"

"Do my math homework, help me clean my room, suck my dick," Stiles mimics, voice weirdly scratchy even though he's got it pitched up. Scott can barely hear him over the whir of the box fan in the window.

"Oh my god, shut _up_ " Scott can feel Stiles laughing against his thigh.

Stiles' mouth is hot and wet. Sloppy. There's a few close calls with his teeth, sharp points that make him go still, heart thumping in his chest as he thinks about all the ways it could end terribly. But, man. Scott's seen, like, everything get stuffed into Stiles' mouth at one time or another. But the way his dick makes Stiles' lips stretch, the way it makes the corners go white-

"Holy shit," Scott breathes out.

The press of Stiles' palms against his shins is too hot. They're rough, catch the hair there and tug a little. Scott tries to think about the pain of it instead of the slow slide of Stiles' tongue against the head of his cock. He doesn't mean to, but he grabs a fistful of short, messy hair at the nape of Stiles' neck and twists.

Stiles _sighs_ around his dick. It's a weird rush of air that feels hot on the spit slick skin. Scott's legs are shaking, the muscles tightening up. Oh god, oh god, it feels so good. Stiles pulls off, fighting against Scott's hold on him, and bites the thick part of Scott's thigh.

"What the fuck, ow ow ow." Scott scrambles backward, shirt rucking up under his shoulders uncomfortably. Stiles thumps down on him, prodding at Scott's dick. It bounces weakly against Scott's stomach.

"Stop pulling my hair, asshole. You have crappy blowjob etiquette."

Let it never be said that Stiles isn't the best friend a guy could ever have. His licks his palm, a long pull of his tongue that makes Scott's cock jump in anticipation, and jerks him off quick and efficient. It's not as good as his mouth, but it still feels thousands of times better than his own hand.

"I'm never going to let you get to home base if you keep being a jackass," Stiles says, huffing close to Scott's ear. It shouldn't be the thing that sets him off, but the thought of Stiles rolling over and letting him-

"Oh fuck. Oh shit. I'm-"

"Gross," Stiles finishes, jerking Scott through his orgasm. He makes a face at the mess on his fist but doesn't stop until Scott whines pathetically. Scott is going to pass out. And _die_.

When he can feel his toes again, he flops an arm around Stiles' waist and snuggles up to him. He feels warm and sleepy and awesome like he never has before after jerking himself off. This was a great plan. This was, like, the best plan ever made ever.

"Your sweaty balls are on my leg," Stiles says dryly. Up close, Scott can see his eyelashes moving. It's weird, but he could totally see this being a thing. Him and Stiles and sleeping together through the hot, ugly summers. "And if you're not going to return the favor, at least let me up so I can jerk myself off."

Oh, yeah. He'd forgotten about that. Oops.

So, the crease of thigh and dick is kind of gross and damp under Stiles' boxers. And he has a surprising amount of leg hair. Scott tries to ignore it as he wraps his hands around Stiles' dick. It's hot and hard and kind of twitchy under his fingers, and kind of not like his own at all.

"Yeah, okay," Stiles says. He tips his hips up, head lolling back against Scott's pillows. The fan spits lukewarm air at them, but the air stays humid and sticky. He should probably pull Stiles' underwear down, actually give as good as he got, but Stiles is making these noises and bucking his hips up in little waves. "Yeah, that's good."

One of the smiley faces on Stiles' boxers gets a facial. Scott watches the wetness seep through the old, soft cotton with something like car crash horror, whipping his hand away. They needed showers hours ago. Between the two of them, his room is going to smell disgusting. Stiles kicks him weakly in the shin.

"I'm never letting you round the plates," Stiles pants. Still, he doesn't bitch when Scott curls up next to him, carefully avoiding the damp spot that seems to have stopped growing and ignores him. Stiles' fingers are combing through his hair, probably getting jizz in it, but it still feels really good. Familiar. "You're going to die a virgin."

"Shut up and snuggle," Scott mutters. They'll take a shower soon, and Scott will attempt to return the blowjob, and then they'll con his mom into taking them to Dairy Queen when she gets home. 

"Sure," Stiles says sleepily. "Sure."


End file.
